


So much more

by fleaflofloyd



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleaflofloyd/pseuds/fleaflofloyd
Summary: The ice cream melts onto the front of her uniform and she lets it. Its coldness sinks through to the skin above her heart, Val's cries sinking further still.-----Twitter prompt. In the "I never thought..." universe. A sequel to that and also Beds, Baths and Black Cakes, but a prequel to Naked. Understand? Me neither.
Relationships: Lucille Anderson/Valerie Dyer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	So much more

Her heart aches, watching as the realisation hits Val, and the light in her eyes vanishes. 

Her grandmother is gone. 

Lucille had done what she thought was right; had sung with Cyril to hopefully help Elsie's soul into God's arms, even though her beliefs -- or lack thereof -- were similar to her granddaughters. She won't know, but all she can do is have faith Elsie is with the Lord now, and no longer suffering. 

The weight of pain is on Valerie's shoulders now. Her arm drops from the door and she looks at Lucille to confirm it, as if this moment is a cruel illusion.

Lucille nods her confirmation, hating that she has to break her friend's heart this way. 

The grief begins to overtake as blue eyes well with tears. She quietly lets out a ragged breath, Lucille watching her as she tries to visibly hold onto a sense of--

Cyril stands and Valerie startles badly. She's shaking, the cone wobbling in her hand before she grips it tight.

Lucille knows she needs to get him out of here.

"Cyril, could you go down the street to the phone box and call Nonnatus." Lucille moves around the bed. "Sister Julienne knows what needs to be done." 

He nods and goes to take the ice cream.

Val won't let it go. It's already melting over the top of the cone towards her index finger.

"Leave it, Cyril," Lucille tells him.

Val's barely holding it together in his presence.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Nurse Dyer." 

Val manages a nod, barely enough forethought to appreciate his intentions. 

Lucille's chest hurts at that, her hands reaching for Valerie to embrace her as the door clicks shut. She takes the weight of her friend when she finally cries out, and directs them to the floor as Valerie lets her emotions go. 

"I've got you, Val--I've got you now."

The ice cream melts onto the front of her uniform and she lets it. Its coldness sinks through to the skin above her heart, Val's cries sinking further still. 

\---

Summer brings with it the sound of the local ice cream van. 

Lucille knows Val has heard it through the walls of the clinic on multiple days. She herself has heard Mr Perryman on her rounds, the joyous yells of children outside a balm to her memories of that day. 

The familiar tune catches both of them off guard at the dining table during lunch. 

Conversation stalls between everyone there, every face keenly aware of what Elsie Dyer had sent Valerie out to buy on the last day of her life. 

"I think I might just..." Valerie stands abruptly, grabbing her cane from the back of her chair before limping from the room.

"Poor lass," Phyllis says. 

"What a terrible reminder," Trixie adds. "Perhaps we could ask Mr Perryman to take a different route." 

Lucille looks apologetically at them, standing. "Could someone set aside some lunch for--" 

"Of course, Nurse Anderson," Sister Julienne says. "There'll be a plate for both of you."

Lucille smiles quickly and sets off to find her love, hearing the chapel door shut as she reaches the hallway. 

_Of course._

She's going to need tissues.

She grabs a few from the side table, taking a moment to tuck them into her uniform pocket before opening the door. 

Valerie's sitting in the seat Lucille thinks of as hers, staring up at the ceiling. Just as she'd done all those months ago. 

Lucille's chest aches with the knowledge Valerie is hurting now. 

Back before Elsie's death, when Lucille had found herself missing Val's presence at Nonnatus, she'd prayed here for both of them. She'd sat opposite that seat, imagining Valerie there, with her warm smile, or her cheeky one, and had been comforted by the memory of her. 

She'd chosen that spot last week, before Val had found her, for that same reason. She'd been thinking about her life and the choices she'd made, and how loving Val might change what she wanted for her life. She'd always hoped to find love, to be happy with someone strong and steady and reliable. Cyril had looked the part; tall, motivated and kind. A perfect gentleman. A little too forward for her liking, but she'd put him in his place and he'd acquiesced. 

But there was no spark. No fireworks going off inside of her like she'd read about. He'd liked her -- had loved her, even -- and she'd felt affection for him, but it hadn't mirrored his feelings. It hadn't balanced out. 

It was a mistake they'd thankfully gotten over. He'd needed a couple of months, but then he was there, strong and steady and most reliably her friend. 

Valerie was... 

She was blue eyes and fireworks and butterflies. 

Even as friends Lucille had looked forward to seeing Val in the mornings, her first thought of the day whether or not she was up for a shared breakfast. She'd memorised Val's schedule as well as her own, so she could spend a little more time with her, work out ways to find her on their busy days when it was one thing after another. Weeknights had developed into rum and chocolate, or sitting with the other on call. She'd repeatedly gone to bed with some amusing thing Valerie had said on her mind, or some tender anecdote from her childhood that was simply another piece to the puzzle that was Miss Valerie Jane Dyer. 

She'd been integral to Lucille, before she'd even realised it. 

Strong and steady and reliable. 

And so much more. 

Lucille's learned that in their time together since the accident.

No.

She'd known it for sure on Christmas Eve, waiting for Valerie to die. Their friendship, a thundering heart beating louder than the accompanying fireworks, and a confessional letter had taught her that Val was someone profoundly important to her. Someone not to take for granted. 

Someone not to lose. 

The last few months have simply reinforced that knowledge. 

She was so much more now.

Everything else -- Pastor Palmer's prayer group, her parents' opinion, her abstract thoughts on having children -- had fallen by the wayside in the disbelief that Val was still here. Val was still with her. Val was still _with_ her. 

Her priorities had shifted, and she'd wanted to make it permanent. As permanent as they could make it. 

Valerie's a woman of her word. A promise made was a promise kept in her eyes. 

Lucille knows she's safe. 

And taking care of her now is part of that promise. 

Lucille sits quietly beside Valerie and takes her hand, pulling it to her lap. 

"Sometimes I think I might die from how much I miss her," Valerie says softly, voice strained. 

Lucille can see she's holding her emotions back. She doesn't need to do that anymore. Lucille is the only one here. Val doesn't have to be strong in front of her. 

The promise they'd made to one another meant that she could break. Val could break and Lucille would catch her. Would always catch her. 

"Bloody time of the month," Val says, laughing humourlessly.

Lucille hears her loudly exhale, before her body shifts closer and her head settles on Lucille's shoulder. She quickly lifts her arm around her and kisses Val's hairline. Squeezes her hand as Val's soft shuddering of breath and sniffles signal her tears. 

She cries on her shoulder, and Lucille feels her own eyes water in sympathy, in thanks to God for letting her have this moment. For letting her have Valerie, in all her wondrous glory.

A little bent right now but never broken. 

"It's okay to cry. I've got you now. Always."

The sound of the van has brought back that horrible day to Valerie, but Lucille knows it won't always be this way. Someday they'll be able to eat it again, without the grief attached to it. She'll be able to buy a pair of 99's on a warm summers day like today and have Val smile. Maybe next year, or the year after. 

They've got time now.

Lucille pulls out the tissues and hands them to Val, settling her empty hand on a uniformed thigh. 

"She used to--she used to stick her nose in my ice cream when I was little." Val's voice is thick with emotion. "Jeany and Sarah used to get so cross with her when she did it, but not me..." 

Lucille smiles to herself, picturing it. She kisses Val's hair again, breathing her scent in. 

Valerie sniffles, blotting at her eyes. Lucille can see the tissue smudged with black when Val drops her hand. She'll have to do her makeup again. 

Lucille will help with that as well. 

"She was a lovely woman," she says. "You were cut from the same cloth, that's for sure." 

Valerie sniffles. "There ain't much variation with us Dyers, I'm afraid." 

Lucille recalls June in the hospital, always peering back at her with the same blue eyes as Val's. She'd been comforted by her. Her warmth and steadiness, her quiet dignity, were all a carbon copy of her daughter's traits. 

It was Elsie in both of them. Certain and true. 

"I fell in love with the best one...I think." Lucille smiles to herself, knowing Valerie will run with the comment. 

She lifts her head then, as predicted, to look at Lucille. Her eyeliner has run, water still gracing the tops of her cheeks, but there's a lightness swirling in the blue now. 

It calms Lucille. 

"You think?" Val asks quietly. 

Lucille takes the tissue from Val and brushes at those remaining tears, grinning at her. "Well I've never had the chance to meet them all, have I? There may have been some third or fourth cousin that better suited me, is all I'm saying."

Valerie laughs and takes her hand. "You probably would've liked Simon--six foot three and built like an ox. Kind too. Certainly more agile than me. Or maybe Doug--he lost an eye in the war, but he knows how to cook, unli--" 

Lucille kisses her quickly, a light peck, to distract her. 

Her list of cousins is ridiculously long. 

Val laughs a little. "Still love me under all this cryin' and snot and menses talk?" 

Lucille smiles and pats the tissue under Val's nose, slowly, carefully. "You could fall into a sewer pit and never bathe again and I'd still love you."

Valerie's eyes crinkle, and she grins. "That's actually kind of romantic." 

She kisses Lucille, longer this time, until Lucille pulls back slowly. 

"We're too close to the sun, young Icarus," Lucille tells her, glancing back in the direction of the closed door. 

They're within the walls of Nonnatus, but it's daylight, and they're pushing their luck just a little too far. 

Valerie settles her head back down on Lucille's shoulder and squeezes her hand. "I'd melt my wings and crash down to earth, over and over, for you."

Lucille breathes her in. 

"And I'd catch you, every single time."

"Even with the few extra pounds I've put on since I stopped riding everywhere?" 

Lucille tisks. "Hush now...that's just your hormones talking." 

Valerie hums. "Stupid uterus." 

Lucille laughs, and kisses her head again. 

_So much more._


End file.
